Jaeger
I was born… … in Sibuyan Island, On a warm, windy Wednesday evening. The Chicks clucked, cheeped, and crowed. Cicadas pulsated to crescendo.
Glimpses On Life & Music.
Memoirs and songs.
Memoirs and songs.
I was born… … in Sibuyan Island, On a warm, windy Wednesday evening. The Chicks clucked, cheeped, and crowed. Cicadas pulsated to crescendo.
The hissing of pumped air, the sweet putrid aroma of alcohol and kerosene, the spark of the red-tipped match that started it all, and the beginning of night in a far-flung village detached from the gallows of city lights.
Memoir
